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Anna Akhmatova (1889-1966)
 Anna Akhmotova,was born in Odessa Ukraine (At the time the Russian Empire) on June 23rd 1889 to an upper class European family. At the young age of 11 month s her and her family moved to Tsarskoye Selo, near St. Petersburg. Later in her life she moved to Keiv and attended Mariinskaya High School where she finished her schooling. She then went to pursue law at Keiv University, but then left only a year later to study literature in St.Petersburg.She started writing poetry at age 11 and began publishing her work in her later teenage years. However her father did not approve of her writting and didn't want her ruining his 'respectable' name, so Anna decided to use her grandfather's last name as her pen name Akhmatova.
In 1903 Anna met a young poet by the name of Nikolay Gumilev (who she later married) who encouraged her to publish her works.Soon after in 1907 at the age of 17 she published her first poem which could be translated as On his hand are many shiny rings, signing it ‘Anna G. As she got older she continued to publish her poems as she got older and lived her life. Some ranging from short lyric poems to intricately structured cycles.


"But There're Somewhere..."

1915
Warm, gay and absolutely clear…
There, speaks a neighbor through the fences, light,
With a sweet girl, and only bees can hear –
The gentlest talking of this kind.
 
But here we live – the solemn ones and toilsome –
And honor rites of our meetings, sad,
When our speech, just as a bud to blossom,
Is cut by wind, the cold and mad.
 
But we shall never seek a substitution
For this grand city – our woe and prize –
The widest rivers’ ever glaring ice,
The gloomy gardens, hidden from beams sun’s
And the Muse voice’s slim illusion.
 
 



"All In the Moscow..."

1963
All in the Moscow is flooded with the verses,
Pierced through with awful spears of the rhymes.
Let we abide with them on different courses,
Let the full silence crowns over us,
Let muteness would be the secret symbol
Of them with you, though always seemed – with me,
But you unite self in a marriage, single,
With virgin silence, bitterest to be, –
That one, which eats the granite under ground,
And makes the future circle wholly filled,
And, in the night, suppressing loud sound,
Predicts your perish through your own ear